


Tainted Love

by BasicBathsheba



Series: Take On Me [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Established Relationship, Fiona Finds Out, Fiona has the worst timing, Fluff, M/M, Normal AU, baz is a lil bitch, scottish au, simon snow has a bad morning, take on me, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicBathsheba/pseuds/BasicBathsheba
Summary: For Simon Snow, everything about dating Baz Pitch has been a dream come true.Except for his aunt Fiona's habit of showing up unannounced.**a one-shot spin off of my fic Take On Me and set in that universe**





	Tainted Love

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I'll be posting a series of one shots based in the Take On Me universe answering questions I received about the fic! If you have not read that fic, I highly recommend you do so!
> 
> First up: 
> 
> How did Fiona find out about Baz & Simon?
> 
> \-- takes place after chapter 9 of Take On Me --

When I wake up, we’re in my bed. That doesn’t normally happen. Usually we’re in Baz’s room and I wake up cocooned in his huge white comforter with the sun spilling over my feet. But last night wasn’t exactly planned.

Baz’s head is stretched across my chest, his mouth open a little, huffing. His hair is tickling at my chin, and it’s sticking in all directions. That bit isn’t unusual—that’s pretty standard morning fair. But the fact that he’s still naked, his bare ass uncovered by the blanket, our legs entwined—that’s new.

I grin.

I want to stay here and watch the dust motes float through the rays of sun that are lighting up the curves of his body but I desperately have to piss, and I’m wildly hungover, so I gently kiss the top of his shoulder and go to slide out from his embrace. His hand tightens around my waist and he smacks at his lips and mumbles something that I think sounds like “don’t go.”

I grin again. I don’t think I’m going to stop grinning.

“I’m making tea, love. Want some?”

He grunts, and I take it as a yes and kiss his shoulder again and crawl out. His hand gently grabs at mine as I go, and he holds on, our fingers connected until I’m several steps away from the bed. He’s always clingy when he’s half asleep, but this is more than usual. 

It’s unnaturally warm in here this morning, which is odd, considering it’s January, so I don’t grab my clothes before heading to the bathroom. It’s a bad habit of mine that I’ve been trying to get better about since moving in with Baz, but honestly, now that we’ve shagged, there’s not much to stop me wandering the kitchen naked anymore.

I don’t think he’ll be complaining, at least.

I drag my hand over my face as I pee and yawn so loudly my jaw clicks. After I make tea I’m getting back in bed and I’m not leaving. Ever. I’m going to call in to work and give Ebb some bad excuse she won’t believe, and I’m going to curl back up with him because I  _ can _ . I don’t think Baz will argue—it’s a Saturday, and he loves to fucking sleep.

My feet scuff along the hardwood floor as I head down the hall to the kitchen, my eyes half closed against the yellow hazy light pouring through the windows. Our flat is bright and warm and cosy and even though my head is pounding, I’ve never loved it more. It’s never felt more like home to me.

Considering I drank my weight in alcohol last night, I shouldn’t be so happy right now, but I can’t help it. Everything is good. Baz is in my bed and we finally,  _ finally _ crossed that final hurdle. After this awful, stressful month, everything is finally on track.

I stumble into the kitchen and flip on the kettle and yawn again while I open the overhead cabinet to hunt down bags, my spine cracking a wee bit as I bend. Maybe I should make some toast as well. Or maybe get some biscuits? Baz is a dick about eating in bed, but he’d probably make an exception since we’re in mine and he won’t have to deal with the crumbs. Maybe I’ll just skip toast all together and just do a proper fry up. He claims he hates them, but he always eats it.

“Morning sunshine,” comes a voice from behind me. “You look chipper.”

I jump, terrified, and a low, guttural shout gets pulled from me as I slam against the counter and spin around to see Fiona sitting at our table, drinking Starbucks and flipping through one of Baz’s schoolbooks.

I shout again and grab for an oven mitt and shove it over my crotch, suddenly greatly regretting my decision to walk around stark.

“Why are you here?” I squeak. “How are you here?”

“I’ve a key,” she says lightly, just as there’s a crash from down the hall and a grunt and Baz’s panicked voice calling, “Simon?”

“It’s alright!” I shout back, but it’s too late—I can already head his soft footsteps on the floor.

“Baz, don’t—” I start, but it dies in my throat as he shuffles around the corner, his eyes half shut, his hair sticking straight up. He didn’t stop to put on clothes.

“I heard a crash, are you—oh Jesus Christ.”

Fiona wrinkles her nose and looks away.

“I never wanted to see that, thanks a ton,” she says in a disgusted tone, shoving the book away from her and turning her head. I expect Baz to panic like I did and flee the room or take refuge behind a pan, but instead he just crosses his arms and leans against the doorway.

“Then you shouldn’t have shown up unannounced in our kitchen,” he says, fixing Fiona with a steady glare. She doesn’t glare back. Instead she’s looking at me, which I’d really prefer she didn’t do, to be honest. I start edging toward the door, but Baz is blocking it, and I’d have to turn around, and Fiona would get a full look—

“Why didn’t you shits tell me?” she asks, taking another sip of her coffee. A  long pause permeates the kitchen and she gestures her hand. “Well?” she says again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were shagging?”

I want to die. I want to leave this flat and not stop walking until I hit the Firth of Forth and throw myself in. 

“It’s a new development,” Baz says, and I turn even redder. Fiona arcs an eyebrow. “Very new.” 

Slaughter me. Tear my head off.

“Oh. Whoops,” she says lightly. “Sorry for interrupting your post-coital bliss. Congrats on popping Baz’s cherry.”

“I didn’t pop—”

“Fiona,” Baz says, his tone weary, as I squeak.

“Uh, no offence...” I say, “but why are you here?”

“Oh, I heard you drunk idiots on the stairs last night and wanted to come embarrass you. I didn’t realise it was going to be this good.” Fiona takes another sip of her coffee and flicks a bit of dirt out from under her nail.

“Thanks for coming, Fi, really,” Baz says, annoyed. “Can you go now?”

“Are you dating?” she asks, ignoring him. I really want her to leave. I really want to put pants on now. 

“We’ve been dating. Now leave, please,” Baz says. He sounds like he’s at the end of his rope, like he’s about to pick her up and throw her out of here himself. He looks gorgeous and I really fucking hate the fact that Fiona is here because he’s just standing there in all his gangly glory and I can’t stop thinking about last night and this is not the time or place because all that’s covering me is a mitten.

Fiona slams the book closed and grunts.

“After everything I did for you shits, you didn’t even tell me?” She shakes her head. “I made this happen! I set this up!”

“How did you do that?” Baz asks with the tone of a man who is world weary.

“I told you he was gay.”

“I’m not gay,” I start, but Baz is talking over me. 

“That doesn’t count as making this happen.”

“Come on boyo, I was rooting from the start. I hired him, didn’t I?”

“As an employee, not to be my boyfriend,” Baz snaps, and I heat a little bit. Boyfriend. That’s a new word. That’s what we are now. We make out all the time and fall asleep in each other’s arms and he took me to the pub to celebrate my good grade on my paper and now, after last night, we’re properly sleeping together, not just fumbling around like teens. We’re dating. We’re boyfriends. The grin I was wearing this morning slowly comes back.

“How long have you been keeping this from me?” Fiona demands.

“New Years,” I answer as Baz says, “Christmas Eve.”

I glance at him. He thinks we’ve been together since Christmas? I’ve been counting from New Years, when we finally decided to give this a go, but he seems to be counting from our first kiss at Christmas. A month ago.

My face grows warm.

Maybe last night at the pub wasn’t entirely about my good grades. That’s what I’d assumed, and he didn’t correct me, but neither of us is the type to get that drunk over a grade.

I glance at Baz and he’s looking down at the floor for the first time since he woke up, his cocky confidence wounded a bit.

God, he looks perfect, with his hair absolutely wrecked and sleep still clinging to the purple spots around his eyes. He’s gorgeous.

“Simon, please, stop.”

“What?” I say, nearly jumping out of my skin. Fiona is raising one eyebrow at me.

“Stop looking at Baz like you’re going to eat him. I just woke up, don’t make me sick.”

“Maybe you should get out of our flat then?” Baz snaps back.

“Can we continue this conversation after I put trousers on?” I ask.

“No,” Baz and Fiona snap at the same time. Baz shoots me a dark glare. “You’re not going anywhere, Snow. She is.”

“Hey! I came to take my favourite nephew to breakfast. That is, before I found out I’ve been directly lied to for three weeks.”

“Look this is great and all, but I need to get ready for work...” I say. My plans for a nice day in bed with Baz seem to be shot now, and I’m not eager to stand around here. But no one is listening to me.

“We didn’t lie to you, we just didn’t tell you. There’s a difference,” Baz says.

“Basilton, with everything that’s gone on with the shop, we need to stick together now more than ever. How could you keep something so momentous from me?”

“It’s new, Fiona, and you’re finding out now—”

“Would you have just waited till the wedding?”

“Heaven forbid we wanted to enjoy it—”

“You’re forgetting I heard you two stumbling home last night, I think you’ve enjoyed it enough—”

“And it’s hardly like it’s your business—”

“Oh for fucks sake,” I shout, slamming my hand down on the counter. Two pairs of grey eyes turn to stare at me. “This is fucking ridiculous. We’re dating, the end. Now I need to get fucking dressed so Fiona, close your fucking eyes, because I’m dropping this mitt.”

Fiona arches one eyebrow at me and turns to stare at the far wall. Fucking Pitches. They can never just follow a bloody direction.

I sigh and drop the mitt, scooting around the table and past Baz, who is smirking at me like this is the funniest thing he’s ever experienced. I’m going to wring his neck later. I really wanted to stay in bed with him all day, and I’m angry as fuck that my good mood is gone.

His fingers reach out to brush along my hip as I pass, and I give him a look which hopefully conveys how extremely displeased I am, and his smirk just gets bigger. I’m not an overly romantic person, but there’s a part of me that is properly pissed that this morning—of all mornings, the morning after  _ that _ —got interrupted by awkwardness and embarrassment when it should have been spent back in bed with tea and scrolling through my phone while Baz did the thing where he curls up and puts his head on my thigh and keeps sleeping while I play with his hair. That. I like that. I wanted that. 

But instead I got Fiona.

My head feels like a sack of fucking bricks that nearly topples me when I bend over to grab my trousers and wiggle into my pants. I grab the closest T-shirt I can find, which I think is Baz’s. He’ll bitch at me for stretching it out, but I don’t really care. The stretched out shirt looks good on him. It really accentuates his gangliness and his arms, which are really fucking smooth, so smooth you can see the veins standing—

I scrub my hand back over my face and growl slightly. I didn’t want to be pissed off this morning.

Just as I’m tugging on a boot, Baz appears around the corner. He’s wearing boxers and a jumper, and I’m fairly positive both are mine and both were left in the living room last night. He leans against the door and watches me fight with my laces for a moment, the corner of his mouth tilting up. 

“Can we take her key away?” I ask petulantly, sniffing at a sock to see if it’s clean or not. It’s not. 

“You’d have to catch her first,” he responds, his voice low and unamused. 

“She still here?” I gesture toward the kitchen with my shoulder, and Baz shakes his head. 

“No, she left. I’m meeting with her in a bit to get breakfast. Do you want to come?”

I shake my head and pull on my dirty sock.

“No, I’ve got work at Ebb’s, remember? I was going to make you breakfast and maybe call out, but…” 

Baz’s smile twitches again and he moves further into my room. 

“You were going to make me breakfast?”

There’s something mocking in his tone, so I just shrug in answer.

“Just toast or something. To make sure you eat.”

Baz’s eyes light up in the worst way.

“What a gentleman,” he says, advancing. His finger reaches out and winds around one of my curls. “Get me drunk, bring me home, have your way with me and cook me breakfast in the morning. What’s next? Chocolate?”

I’m pissed off at him, but he’s being funny, because he’s a fucking prick, and I grin. 

“Nah, no chocolate. Maybe dinner?”

Baz pauses, clearly about to throw another quip at me, and raises an eyebrow.

“Dinner?” he says, like I’ve just fucking proposed or something. For Christ’s sake, it’s just food. We eat with each other all the time.

“Aye, dinner,” I say, affecting a snobbish accent and drawing the vowels out to “din-nah”. He hates when I make fun of his posh accent. “I thought I’d make us dinner tonight. Would you want that?”

“Would I want that?” he echoes. The shitty smirk is gone, and he looks like I’ve completely caught him by surprise, which I don’t get. I’ve been cooking for him for months, and he’s complained about it every time.

“Why?” he asks. I tug on my jacket and turn away from him. I’m blushing now, which I really hate. I was just trying to do something nice, not turn this into a whole fucking ordeal. 

“Because you’re my boyfriend?” I say, a little snappy. “I dunno, just seems like what…boyfriends do. And you’re not capable of feeding yourself, and I like to cook for us…”

“You like to cook for us?” he echoes. I feel like I’m being backed into a corner. 

“Aye, I like to fucking cook, and you know it, and don’t act like you’re not better off for it, you fucking minger,” I snarl, shoving my cap on my head and glaring at him. I can’t believe that last night finally happened and yet I’m still standing here arguing with him about his eating habits, and being treated like a fucking numpty for wanting to cook him dinner. Shouldn’t shagging come with some benefits?

I grab my backpack and go to push past him, deliberately not looking at him directly so that I won’t see him in my jumper—the one he gave me for Christmas—and melt all over again. I’m pissed. I’m angry. This is me in a bad mood and I am fucking determined to keep it up.

“Will you make garlic bread?” he whispers, reaching out to grab my elbow.

I fucking lose it.

“Of course I’ll make garlic bread you absolute fucking grackle,” I growl, leaning up to kiss him. He grins widely as I press a rough kiss to his lips. 

“I fucking hate you,” I mutter, and he just smiles wider and brushes his fingers along my hand.

“No, you don’t,” he responds, his tone maddeningly cool. I yank my hand away and shoulder past him and down the hallway, stomping loudly as I go. 

“What time will you be back?” he calls after me, and I pause for a moment before he continues. “I want to know when to expect my garlic bread.”

“Get fucked,” I shout, snatching my keys from the counter and throwing open the door. There’s an awful snigger from the hallway, and I know what’s coming even Fiona opens her mouth to land the joke.

“Don’t,” I breathe, trying to look as terrifying as possible. I don’t think it’s going to work. No one is as terrifying as Fiona. “You fucked up my morning, so just, don’t. Don’t make the joke.”

Fiona looks like she’s going to explode, and I dodge by her. I don’t really want to talk to Fiona right now, and not just because she messed up the morning I’ve been looking forward to for months. Honestly, it’s because she’s seen my dick now, and that’s just a whole level of weird. I don’t think we can be friends anymore.

He may be fit as hell, but dating Baz has brought a host of trouble into my life.

I’m down the stairs and circling down the alley to cut across to Ebb’s when my mobile goes off. 

 

**_BP:_ ** _ I meant to say that dinner sounds great. _

**_BP:_ ** _ And that it means a lot. _

**_BP:_ ** _ And that I eagerly await my garlic bread. _

**_BP:_ ** _ And you, I guess. _

 

I shove my mobile back into my pocket with a sigh. Dating Baz is going to be exhausting.

  
  



End file.
